Redneck Relative
by Catslynw
Summary: Because every girl needs a pissed-off redneck relative with a bad attitude and a Bowie knife. One Shot. Set pre-series.


Redneck Relative

Cora wadded her apron up into a ball and dumped it in the hamper in the supply room. The hamper was full to overflowing so Ted, the owner, was going to have to do a laundry run soon, which meant she was going to have to do a laundry run soon. It always seemed to work out that way, but at least he paid her extra for schleping the bar's linens to the laundromat and back. Grabbing her purse out of her locker, she headed back out into the main serving room. The bartender cum night manager, Jeremy, was hard at work making bottles dance, and she gave him a smile as she passed. He dropped one of the bottles long enough to give her a little wave, but he was deep in conversation with a customer, so she didn't stop to ask him about the linens. The customer, a young guy in an old leather jacket, looked back over his shoulder at her when he saw Jeremy wave. The guy was cute, hot really, with gorgeous deep green eyes, and the smile he shot in her direction would have been enough to melt most girls' knees. He turned partway around on the barstool, looking as if he might come over to her, but Cora had had more than enough of dating, romance and men lately, especially good looking men. They always turned out to be such pushy jerks… or worse. She wasn't interested. Not smiling back, Cora dropped her gaze to the floor and hurried on toward the exit, passing the nightshift waitress, who was already bustling from table to table, drink tray in hand. Cora waved at her, got a nod in return and was out the door before leather jacket could make up his mind.

Cora walked around to the back of the building where employees always parked. If she hadn't planned on talking about the laundry with Jeremy, she'd have gone out the back in the first place, but the lot was well-lit and wandering around it by herself really didn't bother her. It had been more than two weeks since the last time Neil had… pestered her, anyway. Her Volvo had been parked by itself when she'd arrived, but now it was bracketed by Lisa's new Chevy van and another waitresses' beat up old Accord. Just as Cora dug her car key out of her purse and stuck it in the lock, a hand descended on her shoulder, making her jump and drop her key ring. It skittered across the asphalt, landing somewhere out of sight beneath the Accord.

"Shit," Cora gasped, whirling around to find Neil standing close up behind her. He'd shaved his beard, she thought inconsequentially, trying not to panic at his too close bulk. She wasn't short, but at six feet tall, and with all the muscle from his obsessive weight training, Neil loomed alarmingly over her.

"Honey, I'm so glad I caught you," he grinned, "though that language isn't very becoming for a lady like you."

Shrugging out from under his hand, Cora backed away between the vehicles. "Neil, what are you doing here?" she demanded. "Ted told you not to come here anymore."

"Ted is jerk," he said off-handedly. "He's just jealous because he knows that I'm stealing his best girl."

"I'm not Ted's girl," Cora corrected tiredly, "and I'm not your girl."

"Not yet, I mean not officially, but once we're married you'll have to quit your job and you boss will be – "

"Neil, I am not going to marry you! We're not even dating anymore," Cora hissed, turning and stepping over the concrete bumper at the end of the parking space and squeezing between the van and the wall of bar, heading for the rear employee's entrance. Before she could get there, Neil grabbed her upper arm and spun her to face him. His grip was tight, hurting, and she knew she'd have a hand-shaped bruise there tomorrow.

"Don't say that! I told you to stop saying things like that," he snapped. When he started to pull her back toward her car, Cora wrenched on her arm, trying break loose and dropping her purse in the process, but Neil just tightened his grip. "Stop acting like a child, Cora. You don't know what's best for you. You're just lucky that I – "

Before Neil could finish explaining just how lucky she was, a voice rang out behind them. "Hey, Mr. Grabby Hands, why don't you take your mitts off the lady. She doesn't look like she's enjoying your company."

Neil spun in place, dragging Cora around with him, and she saw that it was the man she'd noticed in the bar, leather jacket. He had his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his entire posture as he leaned against the end of the van was nonchalant and unconcerned, but the gaze he focused on Neil was intent.

"Why don't you mind your own business, buddy," Neil said tightly, his lips curling up into a not-smile. "This doesn't concern you."

Leather jacket straightened away from the support of the van, his eyes narrowing. "Mind your own business?" he repeated, drawing out the words. "Mind my own business…"

Cora was never certain precisely what happened next. All she knew was that one moment Neil still had a hold of her arm, and the next moment he'd had been slammed up against the side of the Chevy, his face plastered against one of the van's tinted rear windows. Leather jacket and Neil looked to be about the same height, and Neil was considerably bulkier, but that was where her ex-boyfriend's advantage apparently ended. The stranger had Neil's right arm twisted up behind his back, his wrist almost between his own shoulder blades, and Neil stood on tip-toe, sucking in his breath through clenched teeth.

His own stance graceful, the power in it seeming entirely natural and effortless, leather jacket leaned in and spoke directly into Neil's ear. "This is my business. See, that's my baby cousin you've been molesting."

"What?" Neil groaned, his question covering up Cora's simultaneously squeaked, "What?!"

"Cora's my cousin," leather jacket repeated, twisting Neil's arm just a fraction higher, causing him to gasp and moan.

"Stop, stop! Man, just stop!"

The stranger ignored him, continuing on as if Neil had never spoken. Cora knew she should run, should go back into the bar and call for help, but for the life of her, she couldn't move. Leather jacket was still talking, his tones both dulcet and dangerous. "Cora, she means the world to me, been following me around like a puppy since she three years old." The stranger paused and flashed Cora another one of his disarming smiles, this one accompanied by a wink. "Even when the rest of the family disowned me, she still wrote me _every_ day in prison. That's the kind of girl she is. So I tend to take it kinda personal when someone gives her hard a time, ya know."

Cora's jaw dropped open, stunned by the man's sheer audacity. The stranger turned in her direction, contemplating her with his lower lip between his teeth. Then, a look of resolution coming over his face, he turned back to Neil and gave a quick, sharp tug. Neil let out a single choked-off scream at the same moment that Cora heard a sickening, wet pop. Leather jacket backed rapidly away, but whatever fight had been in Neil to begin with had long since gone. Sweat had broken out on his pale face, and her ex clutched his right arm to his chest, cradling it carefully as gazed in alarm at the stranger. Cora wasn't certain, but she thought his shoulder had been dislocated.

"I… I didn't know," Neil whispered. "I didn't know she was your cousin."

Leather jacket smiled dangerously. "Well, she is," he said, "and you're not going to bother her ever again. Are you?"

"No, no," Neil hastily agreed.

"Good," the stranger said, walking over and slipping an arm casually around her trembling shoulders. Neil's eyes widened until Cora thought they'd literally pop out of his skull. Puzzled by what was causing such an extreme reaction, she looked down and saw that, with his arm around her shoulders, the stranger's jacket had shifted enough to reveal a long hunting knife tucked into sheath on his belt. Judging by the smug grin on his face, leather jacket knew exactly where Neil was looking and exactly what he was seeing. When Cora started to pull away, almost as freaked out as Neil appeared to be, the stranger tightened his hold on her for a brief second, oh so gently, patted her arm reassuringly and then let her go.

"Cora, sweetie, why don't you get your keys?" he suggested.

She nodded, and hurried to retrieve them. Once she'd dug them out from under the car, she tried to unlock her door, but her hands were shaking too much to manage it. "Shit," she whispered. "Shit." When a hand gently closed over hers, the sound of the rattling keys stopped, and Cora looked up to see the stranger smiling at her sheepishly. "I'll drive you home, honey," he said in a voice she knew was meant to be loud enough for Neil to hear. He handed her her purse and tucked her arm through one of his. Her ex was still leaning against the van, moaning softly to himself as they passed him by. He didn't even glance at her.

Cora thought briefly about the safety of the bar, about the dangers of going off with a stranger, especially a _crazy_ stranger, but she couldn't seem to work up the energy to protest as the man unlocked the door of another car and helped her into the passenger seat. She noticed vaguely that it was black and old, but beyond that nothing much seemed to register. She just sat there, shaking, not a thought in her head until the man suddenly leaned across her, one arm outstretched toward her door. Cora jumped, her breath seizing up in her chest for an instant – he was way too close! – but then he leaned away again and she realized that he was just snapping her seatbelt into position.

"Here," he said, handing a wad of cloth. Cora took it automatically, staring at him in puzzlement. "For your… uh…" He trailed off looking uncomfortable, gesturing in the vague direction of her face. That was when she realized that she was crying. Not great gulping sobs or anything, just silent tears that tracked down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. Lovely, she thought, as leather jacket pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. She unfolded the bundle of cloth he'd shoved at her and discovered that it was a large, man's handkerchief. Dirty. Nothing so gross as snot or blood, just grease or engine oil or something, covering one end. Cora hiccupped, a sound that came out half laugh and half cry. "Oh, sorry about that," the stranger – her rescuer? – said, sounding mildly embarrassed. "I was working on the car a couple of days ago, and I, uh, don't wash those as often as I should, but the one side is probably clean. No bodily fluids, I swear."

Now Cora did laugh. Carefully folding the handkerchief so that none of the grease showed, she blotted at the tears on her face and looked around her curiously. It was an old car, something from the sixties or seventies, she was sure. Beyond that she couldn't say, cars not really being her thing. The man seemed to notice her interest. Smiling, he said, "1967 Chevy Impala. It's been in the family for years."

"Oh, that's nice," Cora replied, not really knowing what else to say. Then, after a moment, she indicated the greasy rag and asked, "Do you repair it yourself?"

"Yeah. My dad was a mechanic. He taught me how to keep her running."

Cora nodded at him, smiling faintly, and then turned to stare out the window. She felt a surprising lack of curiosity about where they were going. Maybe ten minutes had passed in an awkward silence when leather jacket pulled the car into the parking lot of the Cineplex 9. He didn't actually pull into a parking space, just brought the car to a halt at the edge of a fire lane where other cars wouldn't have to wait behind them. It was a good thing too, because the crowd was enormous, cars circling for parking spots, people weaving in and out of the traffic as they hurried to get into the rapidly growing line at the front of the theater. She had no idea what was playing, but it was obviously big.

"Look, I'm going to let you off here," leather jacket said.

Surprised, and more than a little disconcerted, Cora turned to stare at him. "What, no offers to see my safely home?" she demanded, sarcastically. "Isn't that what knights in shining armor are supposed to do? See the damsel home?"

Far from offended by her tone, the stranger chuckled. "Maybe, but I figure it's never a good idea for a girl to tell a strange guy where she lives. I wouldn't want you to develop any bad habits on my account."

Cora huffed out a laugh, feeling more than a bit hysterical.

"Listen, there's lots of people here," he said. "You shouldn't have any trouble calling a cab. You got money to pay for one?

She nodded.

"Good. Hey, don't go back for your car until tomorrow, and make sure someone goes with you. Preferably someone big, just to be safe."

Cora nodded again. It was good advice.

"Does he know where you live?"

Cora shook her head. "I moved. I didn't tell him where, but…" she trailed off, contemplating for a moment just what insane thing Neil might have done tonight if her _cousin_ hadn't shown up. "I should probably call the cops, tell them what he did. What he's been doing."

"Yeah, you totally should," leather jacket agreed. He reached into the jacket and pulled out a business card then searched a moment longer. "You got a pen?"

Cora pulled one out of her bag, and then watched as he wrote a number on the back of the business card and handed both it and the pen back to her.

"What's this?"

"My number. Ya know, in case the cops aren't enough to scare him off. It never hurts to have a pissed off redneck relative with a bowie knife and a bad attitude." He smiled smugly, looking thoroughly satisfied with himself, and Cora couldn't help but laugh. Each time there was a less hysteria in the sound, and she supposed she just wasn't one of those girls who could let a little situation like this send her into what her grandmother would have called a tizzy with a side order of the vapors. Shaking her head in bemusement, Cora eyed her rescuer with renewed interest. He really was adorable, but –

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

The guy snorted. "My kid brother used to claim that I have some sort of hero complex, but truthfully, I just don't like bullies."

"Used to?"

"He's away at college," leather jacket explained, his voice developing an odd catch for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and said, "I haven't seen him in a while. Anyway, I travel a lot and I pass through here pretty regular, so if you have any more problems with Mr. Grabby Hands, give your old cousin a call."

Now thoroughly bemused, and still not ready to get out of the car, Cora turned the card over and blinked at what she saw printed there. "Special Agent Angus Young? You're F.B.I.?" she demanded incredulously.

"Nah. Card's a fake, you know, prop from a Halloween party. Number on the back's real, though. So, if you need anything, give me a holler, and don't forget to call the cops. Though I'd appreciate it if you could leave me out of it."

"Yeah. Sure." Picking up her purse and tucking the card inside, Cora opened her door and stepped out. She was moving in what felt like slow motion, so she supposed the hysteria wasn't entirely gone yet. Leather jacket leaned across the seat and peered up at her as she stood there, clinging to the passenger door for a moment.

"You gonna be okay, Cora?" he asked concernedly. "Maybe I should see you home?"

Cora took a slow, deep breath. "No. I'm okay." She looked at the cars and people milling all around them. This was definitely a safe place to wait for a cab. Then, just as she was about to walk away, something occurred to her. Leaning down and gazing back into the car, she said, "I don't even know your name."

Leather jacket smiled again, his green eyes lighting up and his eyebrows waggling. "Winchester. Dean Winchester," he drawled, in what was clearly his best James Bond. God he was adorable. It was a shame she wanted man right now like she wanted a hole in the head.

"Cousin Dean," Cora said, trying the idea out on her tongue. "I like it." She smiled at him, feeling a new warmth replacing the cold shivers that have coursed through her since the attack. "Thanks for everything, Cousin Dean."

"You're welcome, Cousin Cora. Take care of yourself."

Cora nodded and closed the door. He drove away, and she stood for a long time watching as his taillights disappeared in darkness, only then realizing that she still had a greasy handkerchief clutched in her hand. Knight in shining classic car. Ha!


End file.
